


Drinking in the Daytime

by TwinIvoryElephants



Category: Gone Series - Michael Grant
Genre: can be read as platonic on astrid's side though, more shippy than not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinIvoryElephants/pseuds/TwinIvoryElephants
Summary: A jaded and tired Astrid visits Orc and Howard's house in an attempt to get to the bottom of Orc's mutation.
Relationships: Astrid Ellison/Charles "Orc" Merriman





	Drinking in the Daytime

Orc was sleeping on a freshly dragged in mattress when the doorbell rang. Howard had brought it in for him while he was sleeping before he left for his early rounds. Howard, unlike Orc, had a job to do, so he kept track of time. Orc didn’t feel the need to. He slept for hours at a time, then spent the next couple hours getting drunk. It was a good system, because this way, Orc was never sober or awake for very long.

The doorbell’s chime made Orc jolt awake. “Howard!” he bellowed, voice thick with sleep. Then he remembered that Howard was gone and sat up. The thick, bumpy layer of gravel on his body shifted, looking like gray, rocky slurry. Orc considered not answering it. It would be so easy to lie back down and go back to sleep. For once, he wasn’t having any dreams. 

Orc heaved a sigh and grabbed one of the bottles sitting against the wall his mattress was lined up next to before getting to his feet. As he lumbered to the door, he tore off the plastic wrap on the bottle’s mouth and took a long drink. Orc didn’t mind if it was lukewarm. It didn’t make much of a difference in taste, and having a row of them by his mattress meant he didn’t have to move that much. Orc grabbed the doorknob gently and opened the door.

Standing outside was Astrid Ellison.

Orc took a step back, surprised. Astrid had never dropped by Howard’s and his place before. “What are you doing here?” he blurted.

Astrid’s posture was rigid, soldier-like. In her white blouse and black slacks, she looked like a Jehovah’s witness or something.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said, as if she were addressing an ordinary person instead of a mutated boy with stone covering his body. “Can I come in?” 

Orc was dumbfounded. “Why?” 

Astrid’s face was impassive, neutral. “I want to talk to you about your mutation.” 

“Why, you think you can cure it?” Orc’s voice was gruff.

Astrid stared at him for a moment, then gave a halfhearted shrug. 

Orc let her in.

Astrid scanned the living room. “What happened to the furniture?” she asked. 

“I dunno. Me ‘n’ Howard took it all out when we first moved in. We thought it was fun.” Orc stared moodily at the bare floor and walls. “It was stupid. Some kid stole the TV and now the only one we got is in the kitchen. We can sit here, though.”

He ambled over and sat down on the mattress. Astrid stood in front of him, looking a little unsure, before gingerly taking a seat on the opposite end.

“This must be your bed,” she said. “You’re too heavy to fit in a real one, then.” Her head was slightly cocked to one side as she spoke, but it didn’t sound to Orc like a question. Her tone was sympathetic, soft. Just like in tutoring.

He took a pull of beer. “Yeah. The stones added a lot of weight, I guess.” 

“That must be difficult for you.”

“I can’t pull the tabs on beer cans, either. That’s why I drink out of these. Howard put stuff on the tops so it’s easy.” He held up his beer bottle. “You want one?”

“No, thank you,” Astrid said, shaking her head. “We’re underage. Also,” she added, more pointedly, “overindulgence in alcohol is a sin.”

Orc took another drink. “What about the body of Christ thing?” he replied. The bottle was now empty. Orc tossed it aside and looked at the row of bottles against the wall beside Astrid. Reaching over her, he knew, would be rude. That stuff didn’t matter with Howard or the rest of his gang, but Orc figured he’d better not be rude to Astrid. To his surprise, she caught his gaze and handed him a new bottle. 

“The Eucharist isn’t overindulgence,” she said, sounding mildly annoyed. “It’s a sacrament. You’d know that if you went to church.”

“No one in church now,” said Orc between swallows. He wanted to get drunk as soon as he could.

Astrid pressed her lips together, watching him. He could feel her eyes on him. Orc stared at her until she finally averted her gaze. He finished off the bottle and looked meaningfully at Astrid for another. 

She looked at the row of beers and then took one. Orc grabbed it from her before she could change her mind. “If you get drunk, it might interfere with your answers,” said Astrid.

“What answers?” said Orc, unwrapping the mouth of his third bottle. He was enjoying himself. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Bette or the FAYZ or his dad. That’s how he knew he was getting there. 

“For my research.” Astrid sounded resigned. “I wanted to ask you more questions.”

“Do whatever you want.” 

“Do the rocks—gravel, pebbles, whatever they are—hurt?”

“No. It itched when it first started growing on me. Like a scab or something.” He touched the human part of his cheek with his finger. “Sometimes this part still tingles a little.”

Astrid didn’t speak for a little while, just stared at him intently. Finally, she asked, “Can I try something?”

Orc lowered his beer from his lips, uncertain. “Uh, okay.”

Astrid hesitated. “Tell me if you feel uncomfortable.” She scooted over on the mattress until she was right next to Orc. Then she turned her body to face him, coming closer. Orc could feel her warm breath as her fingers lightly probed the gravel parts of his face, running over the rocky bridge of his nose and the slab of his right eyelid. Her other hand brushed the soft human skin of his cheek, making him flinch.

“Can you feel this?” she asked, giving him another gentle tap with the pad of her forefinger.

“No. Kinda.” Orc stared into her blue eyes. He’d never been this close to a girl before. He could see the pores on her pale face, see the way her mouth parted slightly as she inspected him with her gentle hands. 

“What about this?” She touched the human part of his other cheek. 

“Yeah.” Orc felt his face warming. Her fingers were soft. 

Astrid nodded briefly. “I saw you twitch before. Is the skin sensitive?”

“Uh,” Orc murmured. “No. I guess.”

“Why is this part of your cheek un-mutated, I wonder?” she murmured, frowning. Orc stared at her. He figured she was probably piecing all the facts she knew together like a puzzle, thinking about stuff in a way that was deep and intelligent and utterly alien to him. The thought was thrilling, in a way. Astrid the Genius was trying to help him. 

“Would it hurt if I took a sample of it? The...pseudo-rock?” Astrid asked abruptly, staring somewhere in the area of Orc’s forehead.

He nodded slowly, wondering what “pseudo” meant, wondering why she couldn’t just say “rock.”

“Lemme drink more,” he said, bringing the bottle up to his lips. “Then you can do it.”

Astrid looked alarmed. “No, no. I don’t want to do it if it’ll hurt you.” She leaned back, retreating to her spot on the mattress. Orc guzzled the rest of his beer. Astrid handed him another without him even looking over at her. Orc felt a wave of appreciation. “I guess if you’re going to sabotage my research, you’d better do it all the way,” she said derisively.

“S’not real research,” muttered Orc. Warmth pooled in his stomach. His mind was buzzing. The last drink was doing it. “You don’t even have a clipboard.”

Astrid looked offended. “I have a very good memory.” 

“Yeah.” Orc laughed, eyeing her.

“It’s not official research, I admit. But it’s important for me to know,” Astrid replied, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Why? You really think you’re gonna cure me or somethin’? I already know why I got rocks on me.” Orc leaned towards Astrid, eyes glittering. “It’s a punishment from God,” he said in an exaggerated whisper.

Astrid frowned. “God wouldn’t do that,” she said.

“Yeah, He would. For killing Bette.” Orc chugged the rest of the bottle in one violent swig. 

Astrid‘s voice was soft when she spoke next. “That was an accident, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. ‘Course it was.” 

There was a small, heavy silence. Astrid reached out and touched Orc’s big gravel knee. He covered her hand with his, cradling her soft pale fingers. “Gimme another beer,” he muttered, not looking at her. 

Astrid took her hand away and did what he asked. She also got one for herself. “It’s lonely in here,” she said, looking around at the empty beer bottles lying around the floor as she pried the plastic wrap off the top. “But I guess you can’t really walk around Perdido Beach like you used to.” She took a sip of beer. Orc watched her swish it around in her mouth before swallowing. It was pretty, the way she did it. 

“It’s bad,” Astrid decided. “It’s horrible.” She tilted the bottle back and forth, watching the liquid sway in the amber bottle.

Orc didn’t say anything to dispute this. He moved closer to Astrid on the mattress, until their knees touched—one pale and petite, the other large and the color of granite. He wanted her to touch his face again, wanted to feel her hands. “Another beer,” he grunted, finishing off the dregs of his fifth. Astrid passed it to him.

“This isn’t very ethical,” she said wryly, “but if I don’t give you your beer, you might kick me out.”

“I won’t,” Orc mumbled. “You can come over whenever.”

She drank more from her bottle. “I just wish you didn’t feel like you needed to drink. It’s not right.” 

Orc grunted. He wasn’t really paying attention. 

Astrid gestured broadly to the empty bottles spread out on the living room floor. “Even with Bette, it isn’t fair—what happened to you. I...”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m already committing a sin. I don’t know.” Astrid put the bottle on the floor next to her feet. Orc stared at her stupidly. 

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he said.

“I just feel—I feel like the world is crashing down and everything’s coming down with it,” Astrid said. Her voice was low. “It feels like only a few weeks ago that I was _tutoring_ you. Now, after Bette—”

She cut herself off, then started again. “You’ve got a mutation that’s not like Sam’s or Caine’s. You began mutating after the coyotes mauled you. Maybe everyone will mutate once they get injured like that. Who’s to say? Not me. Not Astrid the Genius.” 

Astrid laughed and picked up her beer again, taking another drink. Orc followed suit. “I’m supposed to know what’s going on. I’m the smartest one in this whole stupid, unscientific dome,” she said. “But what do I know about flying snakes and half-book, half-cat _things_? Nothing.” She took another bitter pull, staring off into space. 

“You’re smart,” Orc said after a moment, trying not to slur his words. “You’ll figure it all out.”

“I lied about maybe knowing how to cure you. This whole thing was a stupid idea.” Astrid stared morosely at her drinking companion. 

Orc looked back at her. “I know that,” he replied. “I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time. I didn’t bring a clipboard, you’re right. I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish.” Astrid shook her head at her own foolishness, taking periodic sips of alcohol as she continued. “A good scientist always writes their findings down. That’s as basic a mantra as you can get in science. About as simple as wearing safety goggles when dealing with potentially dangerous substances.” She talked fast when she was agitated. Orc hesitated, then reached out to touch her. His stony gray palm covered her whole shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, Astrid,” he said to her. “I don’t care.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Astrid said. Orc noticed her flushed cheeks. They made her look even prettier. “I don’t know why I’m talking so much. I think I’m tipsy. Oh, God—“

She crossed herself quickly. “I hope I’m not tipsy.” She looked at the beer in disgust, then added, “I should stop drinking this.”

Orc moved his tongue around in his mouth, tasting the acidity of the alcohol. “It makes you feel better,” he said. “It helps.”

“That’s how the devil gets you,” said Astrid with a faint air of condescension. “Temptation.” Orc wasn’t sure how serious she was. She drank the rest of the beer and put the empty bottle beside her feet. Then, she reached for another. “You want a fifth one?” she asked.

Orc never counted how many beers he drank. It only depressed him when he was sober, reminded him of how his mom would lecture his dad back before the FAYZ. The memory bothered him. He wasn’t like his dad—not in any way that mattered. His dad never killed someone. “Yeah.”

“I trust you,” Astrid said as he accepted another bottle of alcohol. “I’m sure that your mutation made you a lot more resilient. To sickness and alcohol and things of that nature. Pathogens, intoxicants. That’s the way it is in comic books, anyway.”

Her voice was still brittle, sarcastic. Her words were becoming sloppy. Astrid started into her second bottle. 

“Probably.” Orc stretched out on the mattress. Being with Astrid made him feel good. The beer helped. Astrid looked awkward for a moment. She was perched on the edge of the mattress in a way that looked uncomfortable. He made room for her, scooting his overly large body over. She put her bottle down on the floor after taking another slug and lay down beside him, tucking her hands between her legs in a semi-fetal position. 

“I feel strange,” Astrid murmured, her cheek pressed to the mattress. She looked at Orc, only a few inches away. He could feel her body heat; her warm breath was marinated in beer. His eyes lingered on the creases in her blouse, the shape of her lips, and the jut of her chin. Her hair was silky and golden, tucked into her ponytail. He wanted Astrid to loosen her hair tie and let her hair fan out freely on the mattress. He wanted to comb his stone fingers through it nice and slow. Even if he couldn’t really feel it. Maybe she’d like it. Astrid could close her eyes if she didn’t want to see him.

She was staring at him, brows furrowed.

“What?” he said.

“You’re looking at me funny,” she said.

“No.” Orc wanted to sit up in indignation, but his reflexes were slow and clumsy. 

“I’m with Sam,” Astrid said. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

Astrid’s eyes were like bright blue splotches of paint. Her voice was careful and measured, tiptoeing above her inebriation. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

Orc murmured unintelligibly. He needed to talk about something else. If he was quiet for too long, he started thinking about her hair or face or something, and that wasn’t good.

“You ’member room four hundred?” he asked.

Astrid nodded. “I tutored you there.”

“I hated it,” Orc replied with vehemence. “That chair was too small.”

“I know.” She giggled, an unfamiliar sound. Her teeth were nice and white. Orc figured Astrid probably still brushed her teeth even with no adults around. Her eyes crinkled up when she laughed. 

“You scared me,” Orc said. He almost smiled, but he didn’t want to scare her. 

“I know!” Astrid propped herself up by the elbow, and stole the bottle from his fist. She tipped the bottle too far, spilling drops of beer on the white mattress. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry—”

“S’okay,” said Orc. “Howard’ll drag a new one in if it gets too much crap on it.” He let Astrid drink from his bottle, watching her. When she put it back on the floor and settled down, he carefully took her hand, interlocking his bulky gray fingers with her normal ones. Astrid let him, closing her eyes.

“I always liked bring in tutoring more’n being at home,” he admitted.

Astrid opened her eyes again. “I’m sorry about your father,” she whispered. “I think...I should have done something. I knew, but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t think it would help, but I should have tried.”

Orc shook his head. “No. It wasn’t your problem.” He hesitated. “You was nice. You didn’t think I was dumb.” Their faces were close, but not close enough. He wanted to drink her in all the way. He felt warm and good; there was nothing holding him back.

Orc moved so that their noses were inches apart—one broad and rocky and misshapen, the other thin and pale and aquiline. He searched Astrid’s face, waiting for her to turn her head or move away, but she didn’t. She just stared at him in a serene sort of way that stirred him up and made his heart beat faster. He wanted them to be so close she’d have no room not to feel him, gravel skin or not.

“I know you don’t like me,” he murmured. “But I don’t want you to think I’m ugly. Not you, Astrid. Everyone else can think that, but not you.” 

Astrid didn’t do anything for a moment. She just looked sad.

Then, she put her hands on his face, thumb gently stroking the human part of his cheek. Orc closed his eyes. He could feel her breath on his mouth, warm and acidic.

“Bette was an accident,” Astrid said in a low voice. “You can repent. God will forgive you.”

Orc leaned into her hand, nestling his cheek into her palm. He didn’t want to hear her talk about Bette. It was too hard, and she was too close to him.

“But,” she added solemnly, “you need to stop drinking.”

Orc said nothing. He thought about leaning in, pressing his mouth to hers, tasting the alcohol on her tongue. He wanted her to stop talking. _You need to stop drinking_. Like it was so easy. But he didn’t want her to stop cradling his cheek; he didn’t want Astrid to hate him. Plus, she’d probably tell Sam about it, and Orc didn’t want to fight him. He didn’t want to fight anyone anymore. He was tired of it. It was much better to lie here with Astrid and be drunk and try not to think about her in that kind of way.

“ _You’re_ drinking,” he finally mumbled in reply. 

“I’m stopping right now,” she said. “I won’t take another sip.”

“Do whatever you want.” Orc didn’t really want her to stop drinking. He liked her this way.

Astrid didn’t speak for a while. She continued moving her fingers gently and steadily over the slushy gray texture of face, as if his mutation was breakable, delicate. Orc never wanted her to stop. Her breath was sweet on his mouth. A tremor of emotion was working its way through his body, slowly. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips.

“Do you miss tutoring?” she asked softly. 

“Kinda.” His voice was husky. “I sucked at it, though.”

“You were making progress.”

“I guess.” 

They lay there in silence for a while. Astrid eventually withdrew her hands from Orc’s face. “When’s Howard coming back?” she murmured, sounding sleepy.

“I dunno. Later.” Orc blinked slowly. He felt drowsy with warmth and beer.

“I should go, maybe.”

“No, s’okay.” Orc looked at her, resisting the urge to touch her face like she’d touched his. If his face was rock, hers was pale glass, smooth and cool. “Stay.” 

Astrid held his gaze for a moment. Her eyes were so big and blue Orc thought he could drown in them. He wondered what she’d do if he reached out and touched her, if he cradled her cheek in his big gray hand and kissed her mouth. He figured he could be gentle if he wanted.

Astrid looked away at last. “No, really,” she said, sitting up and rubbing her eye with the knuckles of one hand. “People will be wondering where I am.” She climbed off the mattress and rose to her feet. 

Orc rolled over onto his side, stones shifting noisily. “You think Sam misses you or somethin’?”

“Possibly,” Astrid replied, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I left Petey with Edilio. He’s busy with his game, but soon enough he’ll realize I’m gone and get nervous.”

She started making an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in her blouse. Orc watched her, only looking away when she turned her eyes to him. “Thanks for having me,” she said, more quietly.

Orc felt awkward, pinned by her gaze. “Uh huh,” he muttered, staring at the beer bottles at the foot of the mattress. When he stole a glance back at her, he realized she hadn’t moved. She looked like she wanted to say something.

“Really—thank you,” Astrid repeated more emphatically, voice halting and hesitant. “I know that’s something we don’t normally do...spend time together.”

She stared somewhere at the wall behind him. Orc noticed that her cheeks were turning pink. Astrid the Genius, blushing at _him_. It was too much. She was so good to him. It was hard to look at her. Orc looked at the floor instead.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, shrugging his big shoulders. “You can come back, if you want. Another time.”

Astrid nodded. “Thank you. Maybe I will.” She turned on her heel, then swiveled back and walked up to the mattress. She loomed over Orc’s horizontal form for a moment. Orc lifted his heavy head to see what she wanted, but before he could do anything, she leaned over him and—with immeasurable gentleness—pressed her mouth to the small human part of his cheek. The kiss was dry and paper-soft. Her lips were slightly chapped, but the roughness of her mouth felt warm, real. Orc’s heart seemed to skip a dozen beats; time seemed to run slow. Then Astrid straightened up, turned, and strode rigidly out of the room. The front door swung open and clicked shut. 

When Howard came home soon after, he found his best friend lying on his mattress, looking up at the ceiling in a drunken daze. There were several empty bottles sitting by his mattress. “How you doing?” he asked Orc, doubtful he’d get a coherent response.

He was right. All Orc did was turn his head to the side and sigh, as if releasing a breath he’d been holding for a long time. 


End file.
